


The Light Was Playing

by mander3_swish



Series: RNM Painter!Alex [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, rnmweek19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 01:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20024053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mander3_swish/pseuds/mander3_swish
Summary: Alex started painting as part of his therapy. Michael stumbles upon this new hobby.





	The Light Was Playing

**Author's Note:**

> Roswell New Mexico Week Day 6/7: Fic Prompt: If I could do it all over again + Free Day.
> 
> I thought of writing Alex as a painter and it turned into a future fic! I might have some other painterly ideas, so let me know what you think!
> 
> Also not beta read, but I've tried to edit it as much as possible!

illustration by @eveningspirit

Michael rounded the corner of the cabin, immediately stopping in his tracks. "Oh, sorry… I guess you didn't get my text."

Alex looked up from his canvas, a little startled by his unexpected visitor. "Evidently not," he replied, tossing the brush in a jar of water. 

It was such a great day for painting outside that he had decided to do a quick setup and get to work. The light was playing off the hills to the east picture perfectly, and he was positioned just back enough from the cabin to be able to include it in the scene as well.

The thing was, he'd gotten into the habit, at least while painting at home, that his clothes were a burden (and he was sick of trying to keep them clean) and painting in the nude was a completely freeing and exhilarating experience. He also loved the feel of the cool grass between his toes from the little patch of lawn he'd planted for his beagle to roll around on.

And that's how Michael found him, bare-assed wearing nothing but an apron, his prosthetic, and some sunscreen. 

Alex could tell everything about this scene Michael had stumbled upon left him dumbfounded and surprised. It's not like he was keeping this hobby a secret, but it wasn't like they had time for in depth conversations about extracurricular activities that didn't involve tracking down shady government alien secrets. 

At the suggestion of his therapist, Alex had started taking some art classes at the community centre. She said it would be a way to express his emotions in a physical way that he could reflect back upon, a catharsis, rather than beating the heavy bag to a pulp at the gym, which wasn't really getting him anywhere in the long run. At least not from an emotional standpoint.

If he had to do it all over again, knowing what he knows now, he might have tried to runaway with Michael like he had suggested all those years ago. But Alex had been stuck under years and years of mindfuckery at the hands of his father. 

So, part of the therapy was about coming to terms with the fact that teenage Alex was definitely not to blame, and that grown-ass man Alex could look to the future and try to right some wrongs, including an attempt to be happy.

Alex found happiness, joy even, in the process of painting. It was meditative and helped him get out of his head. These simple acts of creation, one brush stroke at a time, enabled him to work past the darkness that weighed him down. 

After a weekend away in Santa Fe, checking out some galleries and art fairs and flea markets, he became really inspired by Georgia O'Keeffe's paintings of the New Mexican landscape. He'd been to more than a handful desert postings during his time in the Air Force - some places were beautiful, some expansively war-torn, but there was something about the red hues of home that stayed with him and captured his creative spirit.

Painting worked for him like the way music used to be able to. He could get lost in the mixing of colors of the palette and the way the textures created dynamic moments he could get lost in. These days music, both listening to and trying to maybe get back into writing, left him wallowing in the emotions he was trying to get past. Sometimes his anxiety got so elevated from certains songs he'd have to just sit out under the stars, only letting the buzz of insects fill the silence. Working with color and light on these blank canvases of possibility were his new release.

"What did you need, Guerin?"

Michael was still stuck in the same spot, his gaze taking it all in.

"Really doesn't matter anymore."

"Well, seeing as it must not have been an emergency, there's a cooler with beer next to the lounger," Alex pointed out, "so sit, relax, and give me a few minutes to finish this up?" He really didn't want to ruin his flow, but he also wanted Michael to stay. They were still working on figuring everything out, mapping out what being together might mean in the longer term.

Michael plopped down in the chair, chugging back nearly half of the bottle in one long pull, his eyes never leaving Alex and what he was doing.

Alex found it a little unsettling at first, allowing anyone but his dog and the birds into his creative space. But soon enough, they fell back into their comfortable rapport as he filled Michael in on how this whole thing got started while continued the painting. And honestly, he was loving this almost daring, teasing situation.

"So, can I see your other paintings sometime?" Michael asked, cracking open another beer.

"Maybe someday, but so many of them are pretty rudimentary since I'm really just learning," was his self-deprecating reply.

"I'm no art critic, but that," Michael said, pointing towards the canvas in front of Alex, "is fucking gorgeous."

***

Alex stepped back from the canvas, taking it all and trying to discern if anything was missing or if the painting was done. He felt pretty satisfied with the end result. And he was just glad he'd been home to take advantage of the great weather to paint outside. 

He started tidying everything to get ready to go back inside. The brushes were thoroughly rinsed and wiped clean, the paint tubes were put back in his painting tool kit, and he was wiping off his fingers when Michael called him over.

"Hey Alex, come here for a second, you missed a spot."

"Did I?" He questioned, eyebrows raised as he slowly made his way over to Michael. "Where?"

"Turn around and I'll get it for you." Michael's voice was low and gravelly, and it did things to Alex. So did the look in his face, the early evening summer sun playing off the golden tones of Michael's eyes and his curls. He was going to have to dedicate a whole lot of future paintings to capturing his favorite parts of Michael Guerin.

But Alex eventually turned around, just in front of where Michael was sitting. He knew there wasn't any paint on his ass, but he decided to play along anyway.

Michael gently caressed Alex's skin, running a finger from his lower back and followed the curves of muscle all the way to the back of his left knee. Then he placed a hand to Alex's hip and brought his lips in for a lingering kiss to Alex's right ass cheek.

Alex let out the breath he'd been holding. 

Michael untied the apron held closed at Alex's back with a bow. Then he used his hands to guide Alex back around to face him. 

Alex took this as a cue to pull the apron over his head. He tossed it off behind him, not really caring where it ended up in the moment. He was half hard and really wanted Michael's mouth back on his body.

He didn't have to wait long as Michael took him in hand, gave his cock a few cursory strokes, and leaned in a little closer before dropping a kiss to the head. He then licked along the shaft, teasing Alex in all the right ways. 

Alex's fingers found their way into Michael's curls, holding on for dear life as Michael sank his mouth down around Alex's cock. He could feel it hit the back of his throat. 

"Miiichael," Alex groaned out. The way Michael's lips and tongue and hand worked his cock absolutely devastated him. He rocked his hips forward, barely able to control himself any further, and started fucking into Michael's mouth. 

Alex was close. 

And Michael apparently had ideas. 

Michael pulled his mouth off with the filthiest, wettest slurps Alex had ever heard.

"Fuuuck, why'd you stop?" Alex could barely contain his disappointment, as he really was about to come.

"I want you to come all over my chest, and then, while we're in the shower cooling off and cleaning up, I want to fuck you until you're hard again. Then we'll see what happens from there."

"Yeah. Okay. Sounds fucking great."

Michael pulled his shirt over his head. He got his hands and his mouth back on Alex, bringing him back to the edge of orgasm. 

Alex pulled back, bringing his own hand to work his cock until he was coming all over Michael's chest and shoulders, just like he'd wanted. Michael was beautiful, a gorgeous canvas painted with splashes of white contrasting against his tanned skin.

He plopped himself down onto Michael's lap, not fucking caring if the lawn chair gave out beneath them. He was exhausted, in the best way.

Alex licked a few errant drops of come from Michael's cheek and then pressed his tongue into Michael's mouth for a filthy open-mouthed kissed.

Before things got too heated again, he stopped abruptly, standing up, tugging Michael up with him. 

"You carry all this in for me," he said, gesturing to his fresh painting, easel, and supplies, "and maybe I'll even let you stay for dinner when we're done in the shower."


End file.
